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In the quiet aftermath of the Rumbling's horrors, the world limped toward some semblance of peace, but Levi Ackerman's body bore the scars of endless war. Confined to a wheelchair in a modest cabin on the outskirts of a rebuilding Paradis, his once-lethal frame was weakened, legs useless beneath him, but his sharp gray eyes still pierced like steel. The scars crisscrossing his face and body told tales of survival, yet isolation gnawed at him, a shadow of the captain he once was.
Onyankopon had become an unlikely constant in Levi's fractured life. The tall, dark-skinned man from Marley, with his broad shoulders and kind eyes, had helped with the mundane—pushing the wheelchair through the garden, fetching supplies from the nearby village. There was a gentleness to him, a quiet strength that had survived the apocalypse. But today, as they sat by the hearth, the fire crackling softly, Onyankopon shifted uneasily, his deep voice breaking the silence.
'Levi... I need to tell you something,' Onyankopon said, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, gaze fixed on the flames. 'These months together... you've become more than a comrade to me. I feel for you. Deeply. In ways I never thought possible after everything.' He reached out, his large palm hovering near Levi's scarred hand, waiting for permission.
Levi's expression remained stoic, but inside, a flicker of something stirred—pity, perhaps, or the loneliness that clawed at his chest. He looked at Onyankopon, taking in the man's earnest face, the full lips, the warm brown skin. But unbidden, memories flooded in: Erwin Smith, the golden-haired commander with his piercing blue eyes and unyielding presence. Erwin, the white man who had been everything—leader, equal, the one who understood Levi's darkness without flinching. Erwin's broad chest, his commanding voice, the way his body had moved with purpose, even in stolen moments of intimacy amid the chaos.
Onyankopon was kind, yes, but he lacked that fire, that unassailable superiority that Erwin embodied. His touch would be soft, hesitant; not the firm grip Levi craved, not the dominance that made him feel alive. Still, Levi's body ached for contact, any contact, in this hollow existence. 'Tch,' he muttered, wheeling closer, his voice gruff. 'Don't make this weird. If you want it, fine. But don't expect poetry.'
Onyankopon's eyes lit up with relief and desire, and he leaned in, cupping Levi's face gently, pressing his lips to the captain's in a tentative kiss. Levi allowed it, parting his mouth to let Onyankopon's tongue explore, tasting the faint salt of sweat and the earthiness of the man. But as Onyankopon's hands roamed down Levi's chest, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the bandages and scars, Levi's mind wandered again to Erwin—how his fingers had traced those same lines with reverence, not this careful hesitation.
They moved to the bed, Onyankopon lifting Levi effortlessly despite his size, laying him back against the pillows. Levi's wheelchair sat abandoned nearby, a reminder of his fragility. Onyankopon stripped slowly, his muscular body unfolding—dark skin gleaming in the firelight, his cock already hardening, thick and heavy between his thighs. He helped Levi out of his pants, exposing the captain's lean form, his own erection stirring despite the comparisons swirling in his head.
'You're beautiful,' Onyankopon whispered, kissing down Levi's neck, sucking lightly on the pulse point. His hand wrapped around Levi's cock, stroking with a steady rhythm, thumb circling the head to spread the leaking precum. Levi grunted, hips bucking slightly, but it felt... adequate. Not the electric pull Erwin had ignited with a single glance.
Onyankopon positioned himself between Levi's legs, careful not to jostle the useless limbs. He slicked his fingers with spit, pressing one against Levi's entrance, circling the tight ring before pushing in slowly. Levi tensed, then relaxed, the intrusion familiar yet lacking the intensity he remembered. 'More,' Levi demanded, voice low, and Onyankopon added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch him open, his free hand pumping Levi's shaft in time.
When Onyankopon finally aligned his cock, thick head nudging Levi's hole, he paused, eyes searching for consent. Levi nodded curtly, and Onyankopon thrust in, inch by inch, filling him with a girth that made Levi's breath hitch. 'God, Levi... so tight,' Onyankopon groaned, bottoming out, his balls pressing against Levi's ass. He started moving, hips rolling in deep, measured strokes, one hand bracing on the bed, the other stroking Levi's cock.
Levi gripped the sheets, eyes half-lidded, but his thoughts betrayed him. Onyankopon's thrusts were strong, hitting that spot inside him that sent sparks up his spine, but they lacked Erwin's precision, the way he'd angled just right to unravel Levi completely. Onyankopon's sweat dripped onto Levi's chest, his grunts filling the room, but Levi imagined blond hair falling forward, blue eyes locked on his, whispering commands that made him submit.
The pace quickened, Onyankopon's body slapping against Levi's, his cock dragging over sensitive walls, building pressure. Levi's own release coiled tight, his hand joining Onyankopon's on his dick, jerking faster. 'Fuck... Levi, I'm close,' Onyankopon panted, leaning down to capture Levi's lips again, tongue thrusting in mimicry of his hips.
Levi came first, cum spilling over their joined hands, his body arching as pleasure ripped through him. Onyankopon followed seconds later, burying deep and pulsing, hot seed flooding Levi's ass, marking him from the inside. He collapsed gently atop Levi, breathing heavy, murmuring soft affections into his ear.
But as the afterglow settled, Levi's eyes drifted shut, the warmth of Onyankopon's body a poor substitute. In the haze, Erwin's face materialized—strong, unyielding—and a soft moan escaped Levi's lips, barely audible. 'Erwin...'